Reflections
by aurimaedre
Summary: Prompt from Roxanne by the Police for Melody's Birthday. Focus on this portion of the lyrics: I loved you since I knew you/ I wouldn't talk down to you/ I have you to tell just how I feel/ I won't share you with another boy.


**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. **

Enjolras threw himself on the bed while Éponine slammed the door as she stormed out of his apartment. Their argument was nothing new and he learned long ago to not ask her where she was going. He ran his hands through his golden curls, tired and frustrated.

Why couldn't she just understand?

He wasn't even sure how to describe what they had. They were friends, that much was clear, but he didn't see her give any of the Amis hugs or seek them outside of the Musain.

So what did it all mean?

He had realized he loved her indefinitely a while ago. He fell for her the first moment he met her but that moment… the moment she first showed up on his doorstep bruised from a fall, a robbery gone wrong (her father left her behind of course) he knew he was lost to her forever. Her visits became more frequent, preferring to seek shelter and safety with him instead of at home. At first he kept his distance, giving her the bed and sleeping on the floor until one night her thrashing and crying from a nightmare caused him to climb into bed with her and hold her till her cries abated.

It never went further than that. He would hold her every night while they slept and pretend to not hear the occasional broken sob she would release into his chest. Their _thing_ they had contained the unspoken agreement that no questions would be asked.

But he wanted to… he wanted to ask her where she went every day, if he would see her again soon or if he would hear something terrible had happened.

That was his greatest fear.

Her visits were so sporadic that every time she didn't show he would always assume the worst. The feeling would wrench his stomach, his fear clawing its way through his veins. It mounted with every passing moment until one day he broke every unspoken rule. He couldn't stand it, wondering where those finger shaped bruises came from or that faint odor of pipe tobacco.

That day changed their interactions.

She was so angry at him and screamed how he didn't really want to know, to not ask her; to not make her hurt him. Looking back on that day Enjolras always wondered who she was really yelling at, him or at herself. He didn't see her for a month after that.

She came back with tears in her eyes and a fresh hand print on her cheek. He wrapped her in his arms and didn't ask a single question.

No, he never asked another question but it was always there. In his gaze when he opened the door and when she left in the morning with a dejected yet determined expression.

The unspoken aspects of their _thing_ began to manifest itself in other ways. Small petty arguments to full blown fights. He can never remember what they fight about because all he really wants to tell her is that she doesn't have to do that anymore, she doesn't have to fight that she can stay with him… that he loves her. Those phrases are always at the tip of his tongue, underlining every harshly worded sentence.

Even now, only mere moments after she walked out he can't remember what they were fighting about.

Really thought, more than anything, he wished he knew where he stood with her. That was the worst part about this… _thing_ they had. She was so closed off and that subject was one Enjolras knew never to approach. He would never see her again if he did. But it was slowly becoming unbearable, to not tell her how much she captivated him. He felt like a dam about to break.

And damn it, he was so tired of being in the dark. He was tired of sharing her. He had to share her body with customers, her loyalty with her father and his gang, and her heart with Marius.

Her customers… he had to share her body with strangers with coin… not her literal body per say, but her physical essence. Did she give them that small secret smile he thought was only his? And that look in her eyes, the one that boils his blood… how many customers has she gotten that way?

Or did she lure them in with her long legs, her hands with their soft touch and waist that begged to have arms encircling them, her full red lips and heaving… No. He wouldn't let himself think of her like that. He was a gentleman and only when,_if_, she returned his affections would he allow himself to think of her that physically. That and he knew that he could be strong-willed, strong of mind if he didn't let himself go down that road. If he did, he would lose all of that. He wouldn't be able to not think about it every time he was in her presence, every time he held her after she screamed out from her nightmares. And then, sooner or later, she would be able to tell and he feared that she would then lump him in with every man who only wanted her for one thing. He wanted so much more than that and so he kept a tight hold on those impure thoughts.

The came loyalty… Could she even desire fidelity and commitment? Or has years with her father tainted her to the concept forever? He only heard small bits about her life before she met that Amis, usually from mutterings in her sleep but it was enough to know that while her father commanded loyalty he didn't deal it out. He was able to gather from the first time she showed up on his doorstep after her father left her battered and bruised to fend for herself that getting abandoned at the scene was a regular occurrence. And if he needed more convincing there was her facial expression when he suggested that she just no go on the burglary runs. It told him that failure to comply meant violence and he would never broach the topic again until he knew she wouldn't have to meet the back of her father's hand… or the other actions of Patron-Minette for refusing.

Fidelity and commitment, two edges of a coin, they practically mean the same thing save for some minor details.

Fidelity… it was such a heavily weighted word. To be staunchly loyal. It could be someone's pillar of strength and make them confident of their actions. Enjolras had it with the Amis. He knew that each of his friends had his back, just as he had theirs. It helped strengthen their friendship. However, Enjolras also knew that when one-half did not honor fidelity is could turn sour and destroy a person's fundamental ability to trust.

Was Éponine's ability destroyed?

Her father commanded loyalty from everyone around him but never gave any in return. So then what would that mean to her if he pledged his loyalty to her? Would she think he would leave her the minute the situation got tough? He knew his actions spoke differently but he was sure her father didn't start out the way he did either.

That and did she even know to look for the subtle meanings behind his actions? How every time he took her into his home his body language begged her to stay and take refuge? It was a catch 22, he couldn't begin to actually prove himself different from her father until he confessed his feelings but she would never notice these nuances unless he did.

Then there was fidelity's partner, commitment. The thing that held the bonds of fidelity in place and mad you stay with someone. Could Éponine be committed to anyone aside or after her father?

He knew that he would be committed to her till the day he died but he also knew that it was such an intangible concept, only proven by time. Would Éponine allow time for him to prove it, or if she her ability to trust was so damaged that she would doubt and fight him at every turn. Every moment she spent with her father destroyed her a little bit more; every time he left her it furthered the divide between her desire and capability to trust. How could he fix years of conditioned behavior? He knew that somewhere in her mind she trusted him, if she didn't she wouldn't come to him during those times of need. It made him feel better knowing that, at least subconsciously, she knew he was hers. It was there when she would lean into him, pressing herself further in his embrace, seeking solace and allowing herself to be comforted by him. There were also the times when she would seek his hand out under the table at the Musain and squeeze it just to assure herself he was there or the times when she would wake up before him and tenderly run her fingers up and down his chest. After those instances, how could he deny that on some fundamental level she knew?

He knew her to be currently capable of both but if she ever broke free from her father's hold could she find it again? Could she be willing to find it with him?

And then there was the thing he wanted most… her heart. Shit, what he wouldn't give to have her love, her whole heart. He remembered when Éponine first stepped into the Musain; she was running from the police because she stole a loaf of bread. The Amis took one look at her impoverished frame, the haunting look in her eyes as she quickly closed the door and leaned against it breathing rapidly, and took her into their fold. It didn't take long before Marius' pretty words and Grantaire's easy banter opened her up. They discovered she took the bread for her brother, a sibling she wasn't allowed to acknowledge because he was cast out due to improper funds. Enjolras remembered seeing her determined expression, only lessened by the obviously love she felt for her brother, and fell for her instantly. He was drawn to her, like a moth to a flame. She was so passionate, so unapologetic for who she was. He had never met anyone like that. Even Grantaire knew how to put on airs outside of their small group but this young women… there was nothing masking who she was at the core. Yes, she could manipulate, steal, and con but that didn't change her tenacity. However, while Enjolras was being shaken to the very depth of his being she was falling just as quick and hard for Marius. Her feelings only grew, practically matching his own in all its irony, and everyday Enjolras had to look on as she gave calf eyes to wonderboy Marius.

He liked to think that Marius was no longer residing in her heart, that he had taken his place. He convinced himself of it a little more every time she would walk into the Musain and search for him before anyone else. He would also indulge that voice that was always in the back of his mind from time to time telling him that she didn't go to Marius for aide and would give a cheer of glee when she let out a content sigh in the middle of her sleep, lured there by the tandem beating of their hearts. But then reality would set in, pessimism being his constant companion, telling him that they were not in a romantic gothic novel and to put away such hopeless fancies. He would tell himself that Marius openly displayed kindness and hope which attracted Éponine to his light like a moth. His friends joked and called him Apollo, God of the Sun, but Enjolras knew that the light Marius displayed was stronger than his own. No, Enjolras was the mighty pillar of strength, the warrior, often thought less of because that pillar remains in the shadows, the unbreakable backbone and tempered steel that was often overlooked.

These were the thoughts that constantly swarmed through his head back and forth, back and forth, constantly swaying like a pendulum until he lured himself to sleep or drove himself mad with his own ramblings.

Thankfully today was one of the days where his thoughts lured him to sleep. His alarm clock was on its last life and couldn't risk being thrown at the wall again in despair. Just as he was about to enter into blissful sleep, into a world where Éponine smiled at him before giving him a gentle kiss hello a knock pulled him back.

It was a timid knock, full of apprehension and doubt as the person on the other side rapped their knuckles lightly on the door, letting it linger there in rest before pulling back. He didn't know how anyone could say so much with a common gesture and blamed it partially on his philosophical musings from the past few hours. He walked slowly to the door, not really wanting to see anyone but not wanting to be rude at the same time. Hopefully whoever it was would leave quickly.

He opened the door, expecting to see anyone but the person standing in front of him. Usually after an argument it would be days before he saw her again but here she was standing in front of his only a few hours later. Her face was blank except for the tear tracks that ran down her face. Her eyes said it all. She looked sad, confused, scared, and lonely.

They stared at each other for a few moments, Enjolras because of shock and Éponine due to fear that he would turn her away because of earlier.

Éponine was the first to speak, "I know I didn't leave on good terms but… I had nowhere else to go."

Hearing the desperation in her tone Enjolras snapped out of his trance and grabbed her hand, gently pulling her inside. "You can always come here Éponine, you know that."

He pulled her to the couch and sat down right beside her. Upon sitting she immediately drew her knees up to her chest, trying to make herself as small as possible. Looking closely at her he could still see tears threatening to spill out from her eyes and knew that whatever happened was bad. She never cried, or if she did it was never around him. This was the first time he ever saw evidence or appearance of tears from her and it was slightly disconcerting.

He knew that what he was about to do was wrong but really, what could she expect? She came to him crying, something that had never happened before and he would be damned if he wasn't going to ask her about it. And if she came here thinking he would keep his mouth shut…

"What happened, Éponine?" He kept his voice calm, trying to keep the sympathy in his tone to a minimum. If there was too much then she would shut down on him, thinking he was only asking because of pity or etiquette.

"Something bad." She mumbled. It wasn't much but well… it was more than he usually got.

"Would you care to explain?" he said softly.

"Last night… the job… it went… bad. I thought they had left me as usual but when I went home just now I found out Claquesous got arrested. Father blames me."

Enjolras stilled, knowing what her words suddenly meant. If the bruises and marks her father made on a normal day then what is he capable of when he was furious?

"He was angry. I got out of there before… well, he will most likely be fine in a few days. He'll expect me to pick up the slack then and I'll be required… maybe… maybe I can do more work before then. That should sway him…" She was rambling by the end of it, lost in her own thoughts. She probably didn't realize she had spoken out loud.

His stomach twisted at her talk of working more to get in her father's good graces. He spoke without thinking, too concerned with her well-being, "You know… I could give you some extra money. In fact, you know most of the Amis would help. You don't have to do this." Realizing what he said he braced himself for her anger at his suggestion.

She looked up at him sharply, her gaze unforgiving and ready to let into him. However, instead of getting angry her gaze turned sympathetic. He assumed it was something in his expression that changed her mind. "I know and I appreciate the offer, but I can't. I can do this on my own, it's my responsibility and I refuse to be indebted to anyone. I won't let anyone have that kind of hold on me… my father does that enough."

"Éponine, you know you wouldn't require anything from you, Right? We help our friends and there are no strings attached." He said, trying to reason with her.

"There are always strings, Enjolras, whether on my side or yours. I would never be able to pay you back and even though you say that doesn't matter it does to me. I would feel like I owed you in some way and shit like that can be toxic in a relationship."

Enjolras nodded, letting the issue drop. He didn't want to but she had spoken her side and he knew pressing the issue would push her away. He was so concerned about it that he didn't hear her use the word relationship.

He heard her yawn and she leaned back on his sofa, resting her head on his shoulder, exhausted. He could smell her hair, feel her breath on his neck and all he wanted was to wrap his arm around her and pull her close. His thoughts drifted back to earlier and he realized that he didn't want to hold in his feelings anymore. They were driving him mad and he couldn't keep it in any longer. He was just going to come right out and say it.

"Éponine… I think you should know… You don't have go out there and work for your father anymore. You can stay with me and the Amis and I can help you get a job. I am not doing this because I pity you… I am doing this because I care about you. I worry about you every time you walk out the door and I don't see you for days on end. What I am trying to say Éponine is that I like you." He said in a rush.

He was relieved to finally get his feelings off his chest and he turned his head to look at her, hoping he would see any expression that didn't indicate rejection. Her eyes were closed, her breathing even, indicating that she had already fallen asleep. He sighed, frustrated that his moment has passed and gone without her even knowing it. He wouldn't get this kind of courage again for a while.

He leaned further back into the couch so he could get comfortable enough to sleep. He gave Éponine a kiss goodnight on the top of her head and closed his eyes. She gave a small sigh and moved to lie on his chest before mumbling something. He swore he heard her mumble, "Me too," but he couldn't be certain. He would never be able to ask her about it so, for now, he just had to contend with what he had now and hope that one day in the future he would have her completely.


End file.
